


The Church of What's Happening Now

by tawnyPort



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Humanstuck, Post-Sburb/Sgrub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 16:21:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawnyPort/pseuds/tawnyPort
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kanaya Maryam, boutique owner and die-hard tea drinker, has a personal shopping session with barista and amateur medium Aradia Megido that leads to termites and an excess of white wine but does not lead to pancakes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [testyCurmudgeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/testyCurmudgeon/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Space Bro](https://archiveofourown.org/works/253758) by [JumpingJackFlash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JumpingJackFlash/pseuds/JumpingJackFlash). 

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I can't detach from the past and all of the pain_   
>  _I need to learn, start from scratch_   
>  _Begin again_

You knew when you agreed to the profile in The Phoenix that your shop would see an upswing in traffic. You usually do as it gets closer to Halloween anyway, but this past week and a half has been non-stop. From the moment your small Newbury St. boutique opens to the time it closes you are pretty much guaranteed to have at least one person there browsing. You're doing up the numbers for another record-setting day of sales when the bells on the door jingle, pulling you out of the stack of receipts before you.

The face is familiar even if you have no name to put with it. For the last week you have watched her walk into your store—with long hair that looks burgundy but flashes a rich copper in the sun, fair skin and dark eyes, she is what you might call hard to miss—and proceed to look carefully through every rack, trying very hard to look discriminating but ultimately leaving with nothing. She hasn't spoken to you or to either of your employees and you have no idea what it is that she's looking for and not finding but now she's here again. You were going to lock up in five minutes or so. You almost have to admire her timing.

“Can I help you?” She must have made a point of stopping here. It's late, things are closing or closed. This is not the time to initiate one of her extended perusals of your selection.

“Probably!” she replies brightly but offers no further guidance as to how.

“These kinds of things tend to go more smoothly if you tell me what you need help with.” 

“Do you make all these clothes yourself?” Despite the late hour she is actually going through a rack of shirts. Your perfect finger spacing. Oh dear.

“Yes, these are all my own designs. I don't sew everything by hand anymore if that is what you're asking but everything you see here is something I created.” You never expected to have enough interest in your designs to have a shop of your own, let alone have it be successful enough for it to be the only thing you do to support yourself, but people tell you you've found just the right line to straddle between edgier cultures and the mainstream of fashion.

“It's all really pretty!” She pulls out a black blouse with a high collar. All wrong, she'd look even paler than she already is. “It isn’t exactly what I was expecting. With a name like Red Fairy, you sort of expect corsets and long trailing sleeves.” She shrugs, hanging the shirt back on the bar.

“I have both of those items available actually. What is it about the name of my shop that led you to believe those would be available?”

“Oh, I know, I saw them, but I meant more of a ren faire type of thing.” She talks with her hands, bare nails, bare fingers, fine thin bare wrists. “Red Fairy sounds like a fantasy shop, not all dark and gothy. Not even Black Fairy?”

“The phrase red fairy is important to me,” you reply, tilting your head in consideration of her comment. “While I did give thought to the image my shop name would project, I have never had any significant confusion once people are inside. Are you not finding what you are looking for here? It did not escape my notice that you have been here every day this week and each time have left empty handed.” You don’t mind shoppers like that generally. Foot traffic in the store is a good thing and it’s not like it costs you more to have the door open and the lights on with people in the store than without. She, however, is commenting on the contents of your shop when she hasn’t actually bought anything. The gauntlet has been thrown. 

She has the good sense to look a little embarrassed but not so much that it affects her natural poise. At least you assume it’s natural. “The truth is I don’t know if what I’m looking for is here. I have a sort of job interview at the end of the month and I need just the right outfit for it, but I’m not sure what that outfit is. All I know is I keep coming back to your store because I have a feeling what I need will be here.”

Your eyebrows lift almost of their own accord. “And do you often trust your feelings when it comes to where to shop?” Her bland grey wool skirt and black t-shirt tell you that yes, she probably does, and that the predominant feeling in her heart is comfort. What a shame.

“Yes, always. And not just in where to shop. I trust my feelings whenever possible. They haven’t steered me wrong yet!” She’s so cheerful when she says this that you feel yourself almost getting caught up in believing it until your eyes stray down to her sorely abused black Converse sneakers. Oh, but your feelings have led you wrong, you think.

“Well I regret to inform you that your feelings might be having their first misfire,” you continue, letting the state of her footwear go. For now. “I do not know what sort of a sort of job interview you have lined up but in general I have not seen black mesh, leather or velvet give off the most professional of impressions to employers.”

She laughs. How does she laugh at that? And how does such an impossibly willowy woman have a laugh like a bronze bell, warm and ringing? “This isn’t just any job interview. It’s not actually a job interview at all. It’s more like my first appointment as a professional and I need to make a good impression if I’m going to get any more work.”

She’s being deliberately cagey about this in a way that you are somewhat familiar with. Black leather and opera gloves appeal to a certain subset of individual outside the goth and ren faire scenes, after all. “I am going to be perfectly up front with you. I do serve many members of the fetish community and if you are looking to break in, I can recommend a few pieces to get you started on your gear, but in general the more complex items will be custom. I do them as commissions and would be glad to help—“

“Oh, god, no!” There’s that laugh again. Everything is so funny to her. What must it be like, to live a life so filled with amusement? Well, for starters, you wear boring clothes. Perhaps it's her subconscious's way of balancing things out. The world is simply too funny for her to contribute any further joy via her apparel. “No, this isn’t a fetish thing. Do I look like a dominatrix to you?” She puts one hand on her hip, jutting it out and attempting to strike what she probably thinks is a very dom-like pose.

“You would be surprised. Doms come from all walks of life. So do professional subs.” You’ve done work for both. Not often, but she doesn’t need to know that. It’s enough to see the way her eyes sparkle as she processes this information. You think you may have just become a little more interesting, and that feels like a great success.

“I am going to be neither, but I'll keep that in mind.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “I don't want to talk about it until after. You're honestly the first person I've even told that I'm doing this.” Her mouths quirks up and her eyes narrow playfully. You're not entirely sure why but you think you like where this might be going. “I'm Aradia,” she says, closing the distance to the counter and extending her hand. You shake, surprised at the strength of her grip but able to match it.

“Kanaya.”

“Kanaya.” She—Aradia—nods once. “I have an idea, Kanaya. You are going to help me.”

“I am?” You're not entirely opposed to the idea considering you do run a store and spend your day helping people to a certain extent, but it doesn't sound like you're being given much of a choice in the matter.

“Yes. I'm going to come back tomorrow and you are going to help me put an outfit together!” She waggles her eyebrows at you. You have never once in your life seen someone do that in person. 

“Why would I do that?” 

She shrugs. “Why wouldn't you? You're going to enjoy it. I'll bring you tea and we'll hang out and you'll help me pick the perfect outfit for this thing.”

“Well.” You have no technical objection. You have no other appointments or anywhere else you were planning to be tomorrow and you've done things like this for customers before. Just keep telling yourself it's not weird. Not at all. “What time should I expect you? Hopefully somewhat earlier than this.”

“I'll be by just after lunch. Two o'clock.” She's already turning toward the door. “See you tomorrow, Kanaya!”

You wave at her back as the door to the shop tinkles closed and pull your phone out to text your two employees, hoping one of them is free tomorrow and wondering what exactly just happened.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _So I'm going to eat one hundred sweets_   
>  _I don't care if I get fat_

Luckily for you Roxy is free to cover the shop for your impromptu appointment the next day. Unluckily for you Roxy is free to cover the shop for you and that means you are going to be subjected to her commentary before, during and after the appointment. You love your assistant like a sister or at least a very close cousin but you learned long ago that where you could depend on her in pretty much any emergency, you could not say the same for any situation involving discretion or subtlety.

“You liiiiiiiiiiike her.” Roxy is draped halfway across the counter as you start pulling items for Aradia to try. It seems more expedient to have a few items prepared.

“I do not even know her.” This is a fact without any room for dispute. You don't even know her last name.

“Doesn't matter. You like her. Try the green one.” She points toward a deep pine green dress but you shake your head.

“She would look like the girl from Brave. I do not think that is the effect she is going for.” You could be wrong and the green dress will be there as an option if that is what she's interested in, but you have a number of black and dark red items pulled at this point. A monochromatic pallete that incorporates her hair will draw attention to her face which is bound to be a good thing for a first time doing whatever it is she's going to be doing.

Roxy pouts. “But the neckline on that one is like whoa, Kanaya.” 

You just shake your head and laugh a little. “This is for some kind of professional engagement, Roxy. Necklines like whoa are not appropriate for things like that.”

“Psh, I wore a neckline like whoa for my interview here and I'm still convinced that's how I got this job.”  
She shakes her chest a little over the edge of the counter as if to prove her point.

“It certainly was not because of your work ethic. Don't you have anything else you could be doing right now?” 

“Nope. Back room's all straightened up, the racks were OK until you started pawing through them, midday receipts are bundled. I cleared my afternoon up for this.” Her smile is wicked but you expected nothing less. All joking aside, she is a perfectly good worker for whom you may have to invent a new task this afternoon. 

You are considering telling her to go find a leaf blower to tidy up the steps when Aradia arrives with a cardboard tray bearing three paper cups of varying sizes and you don't want to seem rude when Aradia's obviously brought drinks for everyone, so Roxy gets a reprieve.

“Welcome back!” you greet her, perhaps too brightly. Roxy mimics you behind the counter but Aradia doesn't seem to notice. Instead she smiles and deposits a cup in your hand. You start to turn it to see what's written on the side but she stops you and shakes her head.

“Drink it and tell me what you taste. Same for you,” she says as she sets another cup in front of Roxy, though you can see the markings on hers and know it's the exact kind of overly sweet caffeinated confection that you avoid like the plague. Aradia couldn't have known that, though.

You take a sip and carefully roll it over your tongue—it's tea, you can tell that immediately, and it's very hot. “Peppermint,” you say with a nod, “but there's something else there too.” Aradia grins and nods back.

“That's the easy part. The other part is tricky, but there's no hurry because this,” she says, walking over to the rolling rack you've assembled, “is a _lot_ of clothes. Are these all for me?”

“For you to try on, yes.” You walk over to the other side and watch as she immediately starts sorting through the items, creating a separate section on the rack with just a few items on it.

“There. This will go much more quickly now!” She scoops the small section off and carries them back toward the dressing room. You pause to exchange a glance with Roxy before you go back. Your assistant's face is smug and knowing but you can feel the disappointment on your own. She took less than a third of all the items you spent the morning carefully pulling. Still, the green dress is still on the rack, so you muster your pride, stick your tongue out at Roxy and follow your client.

She's already in the dressing room, her khakis and faded black t-shirt draped over the top of the door. “I hope you don't mind that I went through the rack,” she calls out and you see her hands above the top of the door as she pulls one of the dresses down over her head. “I just don't have a ton of time but picking the parts of your taste that best match my tastes is going to find me what I'm looking for, I'm sure of it.” Her hands disappear and you hear the sound of a zipper. “Oh, I don't think it's this, though.” She opens the door, her nose wrinkled endearingly as she shakes her head. 

“I have to agree,” you reply, motioning for her to turn around. She complies, the lace and ribbon skirt swirling around her as she spins. “You are drowning in all that. Your event will think they hired the cardboard in the middle of a bolt of black lace.” You thought all the embellishments would help give her more presence but instead the exact opposite is happening. She really doesn't need all that help.

“Wow, tell me how you really feel, Kanaya.” Her face morphs into a quirky little frown but you don't have time to determine if it's serious or not before she shuts the changing room door in your face. “Let's try something else then.”

“Don't I even get to seeeeeee?” 

“No, Roxy,” you and Aradia reply in unison, but her tone is playful where yours is reproachful. “Not that one at least,” Aradia continues as you see the dress collapse on the floor of the changing room around her bare feet. You glance up front at Roxy to avoid thinking about what's going on in the dressing room but the way she waggles her eyebrows at you makes you avert your eyes altogether. Yes, your shoes were very well chosen today. Excellent job self.

“This one is getting warmer,” the woman in the changing room sings out as she opens the door. She's right, too—it's a vaguely Asian inspired sheath dress of black damask that buttons up the right shoulder. The collar is high and the sleeves are barely caps on her shoulders but there's something about it that doesn't quite work. She lifts her hair up and twists it against the back of her head as she turns around this time. “I like it but not for this occasion. I feel like I should have a whip or a crop or something.” Aradia's smirking when she faces you again and you can feel yourself blushing. That conversation must have left an impression but it's not really the one you were intending.

“Yes, there is something unnecessarily severe about that dress, I agree. It looks very good on you but if you don't think it's the right one then we can try something else.” To say it looks good on her is kind of an understatement. It's like it was made for her the way it wraps her slender body. 

“Ooh, hottie.” When did Roxy come back here? You cross your arms over your chest and turn to look at her but Aradia's just smiling. Like always. “You should totally get that one even if you don't wear it to your thing. You're traffic stopping.”

“You think?” She turns to consider her reflection again and you shove Roxy. The blonde stands her ground, her black lips curling into a positively wicked grin.

“Oh yeah, I could never pull it off because I have too much junk in the trunk, I looked like a total sausage in it,” she rambles, leaning against the wall next to the changing room door, “but you look like some kind of badass man-eating witch. The only thing is it's kind of hard to get out of but I bet Kana—OW, rude boss lady, beating me in front of customers.” The fact that Aradia is covering her mouth to keep from laughing is the only thing that keeps you from swatting Roxy again. They are plotting against your sanity and at this point you are not convinced of Aradia's innocence in the matter.

“And I will do it again if you do not go back up front. There are three people up there who could be robbing me blind and you are back here being a nuisance. I am sure Aradia will ask for help if she needs it.” You grab Roxy's shoulder and turn her back toward the sales floor and give her a push. She resists but ultimately walks forward, literally dragging her feet in reluctance. “You are going to ruin your shoes doing that.”

“OK, Mom,” she calls back, straightening up as she approaches a customer. There, now she should be occupied for the rest of the session, or so you desperately hope.

Aradia, in the meantime, has closed the changing room door once again. “I hope you don't mind if I find my own way out of this,” she says through the door and you're glad she can't see your face though if the way she reacted to Roxy is of any consideration she knows exactly what effect she's having.

“Of course not. You didn't seem to take in much more than that, though, so let me know if you need me to get you something else to try.” That would be a great chance to step away. You're almost rooting against the last dress for precisely that reason.

“I hate to break it to you but I think we have a winner.” The changing room door opens slowly and you can hear her drumming her fingers on the back of it. She's playing her own drum roll. “What do you think?”

You'd originally designed the silky pewter gray dress she's wearing as a sort of nightgown but eventually decided people weren't coming to your store for sleepwear and went with a more modest front panel and less revealing lace, but she still manages to make it look like something you almost shouldn't be seeing her in. The long sleeves keep it from being overly sexy but the depth of the neckline shows her collarbone off beautifully and the touches of deep red and ivory at the waist and shoulders are just enough to prevent her looking like a pencil lead. It's old fashioned but in a charming way, not a dated one.

“Wow, all that from a first impression?” You blink and swallow hard, realizing you said most of that out loud. “Are you sure about it being a thing I shouldn't be seen in, though? That's the point of the dress.”

“No, no,” you continue, stepping forward into the changing room. “Here, turn around.” You tie the ribbon around her waist in the back into a very fine bow, then instantly pull that apart because it looks juvenile and instead settle for a small knot that leaves the ends trailing down the back of her skirt. “There, now if you just do something simple with your hair, perhaps like so...” You reach up and part her hair into three sections and braid it quickly. “I realize it is a shame to not make more of your hair because it is beautiful but if you want to be seen then be seen. Taming all this will open up your face. Just look at that, you have eyes and a jawbone under there, who would ever have known.” You hold the end of the braid in your hands and peer over her shoulder. For the first time since you've met her she looks just the slightest bit uncomfortable but when her eyes meet yours in the mirror that vanishes.

“I didn't realize you did hair too.” She lifts her chin and tilts her head back and forth, giving her reflection a long moment of consideration. “I think you're right, though, and you've just solved another problem for me. You're really turning into a good person to know, Kanaya.”

You release her hair and start to tug the braid apart but pull your hand away when she reaches back to do it herself. “Thank you, but what problem is that? I am almost afraid to ask.”

“I didn't know what I was going to do about my hair on the day of the event but that's fixed now. You're coming with me!” She shakes her hair to make sure the braid is completely gone then catches your eye in the mirror again.

“Excuse me?”

“Sure. I need you there to do my hair and what if something happens to my dress while I'm there? Besides, you deserve to see your work being shown off. Yeah, I think this is a perfect solution. What're you doing this weekend?”

“She's off, she's completely free!” You make a mental note to schedule Roxy to work every weekend and major holiday until the end of time.

“I was not but it seems my schedule has been freed up,” you reply, backing out of the changing room. “Are you sure the people who have hired you won't mind you arriving with a plus one?” It's not that you don't want to go, you just want to make sure this isn't going to blow up in your face somehow.

“They won't care and if they do then I'll just refund them and leave. I don't think that's going to happen, though. There aren't a lot of people who can do what I do.” Aradia grins and closes the door one last time. “But you'll see that this weekend. I'll pick you up Saturday afternoon? The event's not till eight but we can get dinner before we go.”

Roxy is nodding so vigorously you think her earrings might actually fly off. You elect to ignore her but that only makes her pantomime more broadly. “As long as you are sure it won't be a problem for the hosts then I would love to go. I rarely get to see my pieces being worn once they leave the shop.” Your assistant is leaping around in joy and you finally give in and laugh softly. The entire thing is the height of absurdity.

You're still laughing when Aradia opens the door. “That's a good look on you. You should do that more often.” She smiles and walks past you with the dress in hand to the register, setting it in front of a suddenly completely composed Roxy who starts to ring her out and bag the dress.

“Caramel white mocha. I think I have diabetes now and I have never been happier,” Roxy says as she passes the receipt and carefully bagged garment to Aradia. “Half the cup was whipped cream, Kanaya, it's like she _knows me_.”

“Exactly right!” Aradia claps a little, the dress draped over her arm. “What about yours, Kanaya?”

You pick up your abandoned cup, taking a big sip now that it's cooled down. The flavors haven't changed with the temperature, though. “It's familiar, like black licorice. Is there anise is this tea?”

“Yes! I'm going to have to try something harder next time.” She picks up her cup, which you aren't entirely sure she ever drank from, and starts toward the door.

“Next time?” You can't help but voice the inquiry at her back.

“You didn't think one dress was going to be enough to get rid of me, did you? See you tomorrow!” The bells on the door jingle as she leaves and you sigh, leaning over until your forehead is resting on the counter.

“Hey now, boss lady, what's this all about?” Roxy pets your hair and you shake your head.

“I cannot deal with her being here every day. This is going to be a very long week, I think.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And I'm going to speak  
>  I won't censor me  
> I know I can take nothing back_

As it happens, though, the intervening few days pass quickly. Aradia does indeed return every day but given that the approaching weekend is the last one before Halloween the store goes from busy to oppressively, conversation-stiflingly busy. She does force you to take time for the beverage guessing game each day, though. You think Roxy's are too easy considering they are all some combination of sugar, absurdly high levels of milk fat, and artificial flavors, but Aradia takes just as much pleasure in her right answers as she does in yours. The lemon ginger tea with spearmint is the easiest one she offers. On Friday she grills you until you admit that you can't name every spice in the mandarin orange chai and have to admit defeat.

“Excellent, that means I get to buy dinner tomorrow!” She does a little victory dance and starts toward the door.

“So that is still a thing which is happening?” You follow her to the exit but she stops and turns back in before she goes. 

“Of course, unless you don't want it to be.” Her face is open but... no, that can't be apprehension. That would be as foreign to her as relaxation is to you, you're fairly certain.

“Oh, no, I want it to be.” You frown and she grins. There, order is restored. “That is to say I do still want to go. You just had not mentioned it again so I wanted to check.”

“Why would I mention it again? It's a plan, nothing else to say. It's not like you're going to talk me out of it.” Aradia shrugs. “Just don't talk yourself out of it either. I'll see you tomorrow!” With that she's gone again. You return to the counter and your chai. You may not have been able to decipher the ingredients but it's still delicious.

“She's really excited for this,” Roxy chimes in as she rings out a guest. You wish she wouldn't completely ignore them in favor of talking to you like this but you're not going to correct her this time.

“How do you know?” You do your best to sound casual but Roxy knows you better than that.

“We're Facebook friends. She won't stop posting about it. You're going to have a great time, Kanaya, trust me, the place you're going is superspooky. Oh, AND,” she says, tearing off the receipt for the guest and pausing for her version of additional dramatics, “these drinks are from her job. She works at the coffee shop just up the street.”

That makes so much sense you're ashamed to have not made the connection before. “Roxy, you sound like a stalker. I will not let you drag me along with you.” You head back to the closet that passes for your office to start doing the midday receipt up and try to stay focused on getting through the end of the day and not on your plans Saturday night.

_You have the dream again that night. You have no idea where you are but it feels familiar just the same. The area is lit by an eerie magnesium white light and you suddenly realize it's coming from your skin. In front of you is a girl, young and beaming and full of life. She has the most impressive set of horns you have ever seen and you feel strongly compelled to touch them but you don't. She's wearing an absurd set of red pajamas and a pair of gauzy wings extend from her back._

_“We can't ignore our duties,” she says, you can only assume speaking to you because while there are others around they're off to the side, far enough that you can't see their faces or hear their voices._

_“What real hope is there for that, though? The orb is gone and soon we will be too and I will officially be a total failure at the only real duty I had in this, sewing puppets aside.” Your chest hurts and your teeth feel strange in your mouth and your pusher is exhausted. This has been an exceedingly long... whatever you use to mark the passage of time out here. “I should just stay here with you and Sollux, I do not want to do this any more either.”_

_“Kanaya, they need you.” She steps forward and takes your hands in hers. “And it's not like there's no chance we'll ever see each other again. Who knows what could happen? Sollux and I can take care of each other. You need to go so you can take care of the rest of them. Not just them them, either, but all the trolls that don't even exist yet. They're all going to need you.” Trolls? Why are you caring for trolls?_

_“And you are just going to stay out here, you two by yourselves?”_

_She laughs. “Don't say it like that, Kanaya, you know better. If Sollux wants to stay that says more about his feelings than mine, don't you think?” Who is Sollux?_

_“Stuck in space for the rest of eternity with Sollux. If I did not already pity—”_

_“I know.” She squeezes your hands, saving you from having to finish, an act you are immensely grateful for, and rests her forehead against yours. “I pity you, too, and I did way before I knew I'd be sending you into space on a meteor filled with all these crazy people.”_

_“I will probably be one of them by the next time we see each other. Even more completely dissolved into my neuroses than I already am. You will not even recognize me.”_

You wake up early on Saturday morning and immediately raise your fingers to your mouth. No, your teeth are perfectly normal and your skin is not glowing. It was a dream. A dream you have been having for over a decade but a dream nonetheless. You linger in bed for a few minutes until the last vestiges of the devastating emptiness you felt have been banished by the daylight, then get up. You have a closet full of clothes and they aren't going to systematically try on and reject themselves, you know.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And I'm going to jump_   
>  _I will unburden_   
>  _I cannot go too deep_   
>  _I will not run from bad things I've done_   
>  _They're things I'll try not to repeat_

The event is being held at a private home which is a surprise to you. It's one of those nineteenth century Gothic revival homes you find all over Massachusetts if you know where to look and Aradia seems to. You feel underdressed stepping out of the car next to her, having finally settled on a short-sleeved black silk blouse and asymmetrical red skirt. It had felt fine at dinner but now you're worried it make not be suitable. 

“You look fine,” Aradia comments, laying a hand on your shoulder. “The guests are probably going to be in jeans anyway, or maybe costumes. They didn't really say.” She's carrying a tote bag with a legal pad and hourglass in it and despite your asking several times in the car, she still won't tell you what the occasion is tonight. You have an idea because you've seen those items, or similar ones, used before on TV, but you can't believe that's what's going on tonight.

That is until she sits you down at the end of a semi-circle of chairs in the posh living room and positions herself at the center. “Hi, folks,” she says, giving the assembled group a small, informal bow. Some of them have on headbands with cat ears or devil horns but they are largely in street clothes no more formal than your own. You're relieved to be spared the sight of polyester discount store costumes but also pleased for Aradia. Now she can truly be the center of attention.

“My name is Aradia Megido and I'm a medium. Your host, Danielle, has asked me to come here tonight to help you communicate with those who have crossed over. Please understand that even if you don't hear from someone tonight it doesn't mean they aren't always around you. The spirits speak to me in a number of different ways and I'm counting on you all to either agree or disagree with what I'm saying so we can have the best conversation possible. Any questions?”

You have a million but this isn't about you so you watch as the others shake their heads and Aradia smiles and starts pacing a little. “OK, there are two very present people right now. One is a young boy, maybe a young man. Have any of you lost a young male child or younger brother? He's showing me a cross so maybe you're very religious in which case this is probably very strange for you, or—”

An older woman on the other side of the room tentatively raises her hand. “I had a son, Christian, he died when he was five but that was years ago...”

“Oh, that doesn't matter to them!” She's beaming as she makes her way across the room and crouches in front of the woman so she can look up at her. “Yes, he's very emphatic about this, so your son is here with us ton... Oh, no, no, this is a happy thing,” she says, her tone faltering as the woman bursts into tears and buries her face in her hands. “Oh, please don't cry, he doesn't want you to cry and neither do I. This isn't a sad moment, ma'am.”

You want to rush across the room and slap your hand over her mouth but something in the sincerity with which she's speaking seems to calm the older woman down. To Aradia talking to the spirits of the dead and carrying their messages is not a morose task but some kind of duty to be taken on with great cheer and that feeling carries in her voice and face and body in a way that calms the woman she's speaking to. She takes a few deep breaths and smiles weakly at Aradia, who takes that as a cue to continue.

The reading continues in this way for more than an hour and despite yourself you find it fascinating. You know Aradia has never met these people before and that this would be far too elaborate a show to put on simply for your benefit but you never believed in this kind of thing until now. You're still not entirely sure you do but you have no other explanations for the red, teary eyes and clutched hands around the room. Lost loved ones old and new seem to be storming the gates of Aradia's consciousness to talk to their family members. 

Aradia herself is captivating. Several more of the guests start to cry as she's talking and each time she stops, shushing the spirit and reassuring them that the point of what she does is to make people happy, to let them know that there is life beyond this and that their loved ones are waiting for them. Isn't that an awesome thing? She truly believes it is. Her face is alight with that belief, her movements and voice infused with love for these unseen voices and passion for sharing their message. You find it hard to believe she ever thought choosing a dress would have any impact on this establishing her reputation. She could do readings in a potato sack, or even in the clothes she was wearing the first time you spoke which might even be worse, and she would still be the star. With only a few minutes remaining, though, she shakes her head and looks apologetically at the hostess.

“If I had known this was going to happen I wouldn't have brought a guest but this voice just will not leave me alone, it's drowning everyone else out. I'm a medium, not a psychic so I'm sorry but, Kanaya,” she says, turning to you with a hesitant look in her eyes, “has your mother passed?”

You feel the blood drain from your face and shake your head. You have no dead family members to your knowledge, though given how distant some of the relations have been tonight you could be wrong or just not know far enough back into your family's history.

“This woman is showing me babies and eggs and pretty much every sort of 'mother' image I can come up with, so whoever she is, she may not have been your actual mother but she really saw herself that way.” Aradia shrugs and moves closer to you. Her hair has started to come out of the braid and it's like a fiery halo around her face, thin strands curling in the warmth of the room. Her fair skin is flushed and her eyes are bright and she looks so familiar. You shake the feeling off, though. Of course she looks familiar. “She's showing me a lot of white, too, and Virgin iconography. You're Catholic?”

You shake your head. “I'm Jewish.” This is a deeply confused spirit and they are making things awkward for everyone. The guests are exchanging glances because this is the first time Aradia's been wrong all night, you are extremely uncomfortable telling your friend over and over that she is wrong, and she is barreling ahead as though you are confirming every word she says.

“She's not listening to you anymore. Or to me, I think. Sometimes you just have to let them talk and I think this is one of those times. Just be a medium in the purest sense of the term.” She shrugs like it's no big deal that some spirit that is a complete stranger to you is taking over a paid session that you are not involved in. “She says to tell you she is incredibly proud of everything you did and that what happened wasn't your fault.” Aradia looks down at you with her eyebrows lifted but you offer nothing but a shake of your head. “She says... do you have royalty in your family history? I'm seeing royal purple and she's talking about a prince. No, of course you don't,” she responds to your silence, sighing and shaking her head. “She says he was a loose cannon for a long time and you did all you could. That's the thing she just keeps pushing and pushing. You did all you could and you should be proud because she is.” She pauses for a long moment. “Are you allergic to wasps? No, not a wasp, she's showing me... it looks like a termite and something else that looks like one of those old-timey bombs. Have you had your apartment insp—”

“I do not have termites! Your spirit is insane and I am not the person they are looking for!” you spit back, retreating into the armchair you're sitting in and breaking eye contact with her. You hear her sigh then the rustle of her skirt as she turns to face the room.

“Well. The hourglass has run out so that's the end of the session, though I will be glad to pass on any messages I get for the rest of the night as a courtesy for the weird way this ended. Thank you so much for having me, Danielle, everyone, and I hope you can find joy in what you heard here tonight.” The entire crowd takes a turn at hugging her which seems to throw her off a little but you're more concerned about something else she said. The rest of the night?

As it turns out this session is being followed by a generous afterparty with ample amounts of wine. You attempt to make small talk with the other guests but they are all already very familiar with each other and none of them seem keen to talk to the woman who shouted at Aradia when they could be talking to the cheerful medium herself. They don't seem to mind if you help yourself to their very good sauvignon blanc, though, so it works out in the end except that Aradia has to help you to the car.

Once you've pulled out away from the house into the night, she glances away from the road to look at you. “I'm sorry about tonight, Kanaya. It's not something I can control.” She sounds deeply apologetic and her face is creased with concern.

“Oh don't worry about it. I should have known as soon as it said to be proud that the spirit was obviously lost.” You rest your face against the window of her car. It's awkward but the cold smoothness feels nice. It doesn't slow the spinning in your head, though.

“They don't get lost. Just because you didn't understand it doesn't mean it was wrong.” There's no trace of defensiveness in her voice. You could be wrong but you think she just sounds a little sad. “Maybe it'll make sense to you in time.”

You huff out a derisive breath indicating your disbelief and close your eyes. You can't watch the streetlights go by, it's just making you sick.

Aradia seems to realize this when she opens your car door in front of her apartment building. “You are not driving home tonight.”

“I suppose not. Can I sleep in your car?”

She laughs and shakes her head but you just scowl up at her. You were being completely serious. Stairs are not going to be a good thing for you right now. “Come on. You can stay with me.”

You let her help you upstairs only because she seems to think it's completely necessary. You were perfectly fine in the car. Sure, the nights get cold but you wouldn't have felt it. Even if you did, it would still be less stiff and awkward than you feel right now leaning on her arm as she unlocks her door and pushes it open.

“Chez Megido. Welcome, make yourself at home.” The apartment is tiny, a studio really, but some vague part of your mind realizes the income she makes from readings must be the only way she can afford it. Real estate here is outlandishly expensive and even here, a little outside the city, living alone on a barista's salary is something of a miracle.

“You have all this to yourself?” You glance around as she heads toward the side of the room where her bed was, the space partitioned off from the main living area by a set of bookshelves that, rather than being filled with books, are filled with fossils and small animal skeletons. An interesting decorative choice. The kitchen seems criminally small and the door off that must lead to the bathroom. Beyond that there's not much in the way of furniture but there is a sofa and you navigate your way to that.

“Oh yeah, all this is mine,” she replies from the other side of the room, “all four hundred and fifty square feet. It's not much but it's home. And no.” Aradia emerges in a pair of sleep pants covered in fluffy sheep with giant curling horns and a red t-shirt. “You're going in here, I'm taking the couch.”

“Absolutely not, this is your home and besides, that means getting up again and I am not taking that chance.” You kick your shoes off and swing your legs up onto the couch. The motion would have been effortless if your skirt hadn't gotten tangled on the way up but you're committed.

“It's my home which means I make the rules. This side of the apartment gets freezing overnight. Come on.” She crosses to the couch, depositing a giant fleecy blanket on one arm then reaching forward and taking both your hands in hers and pulling.

“Why should you be on the cold side? I will not even feel it.” You tug at your hands but she's got a strong grip on them. “Aradia, please.”

“Kanaya, I am not saying please.” She pulls again and you start to rise. You are suddenly very tired and it's not worth the fight and there's something pleasant about the way she's pulling you up toward her. She keeps pulling until you're standing in front of her but then doesn't let go of your hands. “I'm really glad you were there tonight.”

“Between you, myself and the spirit I think you were the only one.” You shake your head. Do you really have to talk about this? Weren't you going to sleep?

“No, she was glad you were there too. She's around you a lot. She really just wants you to be happy.” Aradia smiles just a little, threading her fingers through yours. “So do I.”

“So it is actually me who is in the minority? That I can accept as gospel truth. I mean, if I were a gospel kind of girl.” Her hands are warm in yours and you're not entirely sure what's going on but you're not feeling like stopping.

“You don't want to be happy? Kanaya, everyone wants to be happy.” She says it like it's just another fact. The sky is blue, stirrup pants were always a bad idea, everyone wants to be happy.

“Maybe, but not everyone has failed at so many things that there is really no chance of it anymore.” You shrug one sloppy shoulder. 

“You don't really believe that. I think,” Aradia murmurs as she leans closer to you, “you want to be happy and you just won't let yourself.” Her lips are soft on yours and just as warm as her hands. You close your eyes and let her pull your arms around her waist, returning the kiss cautiously. She settles your hands on her back then slides her palms up your arms and over your shoulders. After a luxuriously long moment, though, you pull away.

“Aradia, I cannot...” You don't let her go or step away but you have to put a stop to this. She immediately moves back in to kiss you again but you turn your head. “Not like this. Please understand.”

She nods and kisses your cheek instead, lowering her arms to her sides. “At least this solves the question of where you're sleeping. I'm not taking no for an answer and you look like you're about to fall over so come on.” She grabs your hand from behind her back and spins you around as though that would somehow help your balance. She pauses, though, as if realizing her mistake, then waits for you to start walking before leading you to the bed.

“Sleep. That is all,” you mumble when you recover from the dizziness. You flop over onto the pillow and haul your feet up, curling up on your side as she tugs the covers up over you.

“That is all. Sleep well, Kanaya.” You feel the bed sink behind you when she lays down and you resist the urge to roll over and gather her up to you. That cannot happen.

_You dream again. The meteor, the murders, the loss of the Matriorb, your failure to complete the one duty your caste is assigned. It's all right, Kanaya, it is only the entire future of the species you let Eridan hopesplode. What are you beating yourself up for?_

_Aradia is there again and again she is trying to reassure you but you are certain it would be better if she just forgot all of this. “You will not even recognize me.” But this time you do not wake, something keeps you there with her._

_“No, I'll just pity you that much more. Trust me, I'll always know how to find you. You glow in the dark and wear the best clothes and I bet it'll be you who finds me anyway. There isn't a timeline out there where you're not fussing.” She lowers her head and kisses you gently, still clutching both your hands, and you want to melt into that kiss, suspend it forever to prevent what happens next._

_She and Sollux lift off from the meteor and you put your chainsaw away, turning to watch her. She winks at you as Sollux starts to spark and glow beside her, and just like that, your red fairy girl is sending you off to you know not where._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Welcome to_   
>  _The church of what's happening now_   
>  _Head straight through_   
>  _It costs nothing but change_

You are alone in the bed when you wake up. Your vision is blurry for a moment then you realize where you are. You sit up far too fast and have to cradle your head for a second but it passes. A little hangover is far from the worst way that night could have ended.

You sit on the bed until you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. Aradia must have gone out. You should have left while you had the chance but this will be all right too. Or at least you dearly hope so.

You rise and peek around the bookcase into the kitchen. Aradia is barefoot in jeans and the same t-shirt she wore to bed, her hair still in the thick, ribboned braid you created for her before the reading. Her back is to you and there is a bag of groceries on the counter. She puts a couple of items in the refrigerator then pulls a large bowl down from a cabinet. “Pancakes all right?”

You cringe a little. How did she know you were watching? “Yes, if you are making some. I can get my own breakfast, this isn't necessary.” You walk forward a little into the kitchen.

“Something doesn't have to be necessary to be good, Kanaya, and I make killer pancakes.” She glances over her shoulder and gives you a playful smile. “As long as you're going to stay and eat them.”

“I would never turn down your generosity. I think I have been rude enough in the last eighteen hours or so and there is no need to compound that now.” 

“You weren't rude,” she replies evenly, measuring flour into the bowl. “If anything that spirit was rude but you can't really tell them that.”

“I would not know.” You reach out and run your fingers over the braid. “You kept this in while you slept?”

“Oh, that, yeah,” she replies with a little laugh, “I was too tired to bother with it last night and I couldn't get it out this morning. My hair's all twisted in with the ribbons now.” You look closer and yeah, it's a mess back there but nothing you can't handle.

“I can take it down if you want.” 

She shrugs and adds water. “If _you_ want. Do it if you want to.”

“All right then.” You lift the end of the braid and undo the knot there, starting to work your way up. “The spirit didn't seem very rude the way you presented it. Were they saying things you were not sharing last night?” You try to keep your tone lightly inquisitive but something about her change in mood toward whatever spirit came forward for you last night has you curious.

“They always do. You have to learn to filter because a lot of times they'll show things that only mean things to me and it won't make sense to anyone else. Though I guess I could have said more last night.” She reaches forward and plucks a bottle off the top of her stove. Vanilla extract? You'll have to remember that.

Her hair is soft between your fingers as you carefully free the thin red and black ribbons from the strands. “Such as?”

“It showed me a red fairy but it wasn't really a fairy.” She shivers a little as your knuckles brush over her back. “It wanted me to believe that was me, that I was the red fairy, but that was kind of heavy handed, even for a spirit." The mixing bowl has all her attention now. She seems to be taking whatever irritations the spirit caused her out on the batter. "A lot of times they try to give advice to the living and that's fine but playing matchmaker is a new one for me.”

“Was it you with red wings and horns flying around in space?” All pretense of casual conversation is gone now as you reach the base of her neck with your detangling efforts.

“How did you know that, Kanaya?” Aradia stops mixing and turns around to face you, her not quite undone braid slipping through your fingers. “Because that is exactly what it was, it's something I've seen in my dreams before which is why I didn't mention it. I'm the only one who sees those dreams.”

“I... I have had a dream like that too, Aradia. That is where the name of my shop came from. For years, I've dreamed about a red space fairy with horns and grey skin. I dreamed about her last night, even.” You rub the back of your neck, uncertain what kind of reaction to expect. It sounds absolutely absurd even as you're saying it but considering what happened last night at the reading and the fact that Aradia doesn't seem to think it's that unusual, you think she may have a more generous definition of absurd than you do.

“And what happened in your dream last night?” She is alive with curiosity. “Sometimes the spirits can speak to even the non-gifted in dreams. Maybe your weird Virgin termite mother was trying to tell you something I couldn't.”

“The red space fairy told me I wasn't a failure. That just because I had failed in my duty didn't mean I would be a failure forever. She always says that, though. And then, well.” You look Aradia straight in the eyes. “Then she kissed me but she was kissing me goodbye because then she left and I was a failure again.”

“What makes you think you were a failure again after she left?” Aradia reaches forward and takes one of your hands just like she did with the men and women at the reading last night. 

“If I were successful she would have stayed. It's not a difficult dream to interpret.” You sigh heavily and start to speak the inner speech you've been giving yourself for years. “If you are successful then everything is different. Then your parents love you instead of disowning you when you bring your first girlfriend home from the fashion school they did not want you to attend. If you are not a failure then you do not spend years begging stores to carry your designs before being forced to open your own shop. If you are truly any good then good things happen to you.”

“Oh, Kanaya...” Her tone sounds like one you'd use with a stubborn child. She lifts your hand to her lips and kisses your knuckles. “How long have you had your store?”

“It was five years this past summer.” You had been so proud of that landmark but let it pass without more pomp and circumstance than a one day sale.

“And what is your store called?” She is pulling you closer and you are letting yourself be pulled because you are sober this morning and you still want nothing more than to be closer to her, to hold on to the best part of that dream, the instant when you thought it might be OK and you wouldn't fail again.

“Red Fairy.”

“So for five years you've had a red fairy.” She states it matter of factly as she lifts your hand and you wrap it around the back of her neck. “What do you think your dream self would think of that?”

You're kissing her before it even feels like a decision was made that you should do so, your arms around her neck and her hands on your waist. She leans back against the counter, smiling into the kiss and tracing the triangles of bare skin exposed when your blouse rides up. You thread your fingers through her hair, forcing the rest of the ribbons free to tumble down onto the countertop. You break the kiss to peek over her shoulder. “They fell in the pancake batter.”

Aradia laughs and starts to kiss your neck, sending shivers through your entire body. “Breakfast can wait, Kanaya, I'll make more batter.” Her hands are starting to slip up your sides and suddenly you are also not really as invested in breakfast as you were thirty seconds ago.

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to JumpingJackFlash for letting me play in the Space Bro sandbox.
> 
> Lyrics are from, "The Church of What's Happening Now," by Sia.


End file.
